


Alive

by Waking_dreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waking_dreams/pseuds/Waking_dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione struggles in the aftermath of the final battle. Was feeling alive enough justification for this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive

**Author's Note:**

> My first Dramione fic, also posted on Hawthorne & Vine and Granger Enchanted. Enjoy!

The cool stone walls of the common room pressed hard into her back, but it wouldn’t be until later than she felt the bruises. The freezing night air whistled in the open window and through her hair, but it wouldn’t be until later that she realized how very cold it was. They were both so foolish, risking what they had, but she had never felt so alive.

She hated herself for what she was doing, but even that loathing couldn’t stop her.

His lips were on hers, smooth and firm, moving heatedly against her mouth. Their tongues slid across each other, soft and wet. His hand was fisted in the back of her shirt, lifting it from the waistband of her skirt. His other hand was resting firmly on her bottom, holding her flush and secure against him.

He moved his mouth to the juncture between her neck and shoulder, and she let out a sigh of air. “Draco,” she whispered, the sound harsh in the night. “We shouldn’t…” Her voice trailed off, a jagged moan escaping her mouth, embarrassing her, as he nipped at a pulse point on her neck.

He ignored her weak protest, as she knew he would. They both knew that if she hadn’t accepted the situation, then she wouldn’t be there with him, feeling more alive than she ever had since Harry’s death in the fall.

His hands moved to fumble at the hemline of her shirt, and he yanked it over her head, too impatient to deal with buttons. The combination of the sudden cold and the light touches of his finger tips made her recoil into a shiver, but then his arms were around her and his mouth on hers again and she was warm, delightfully warm and alive. 

Gradually, she could feel the tension of need pooling in her stomach, begging for friction and eventual release. She shifted her hips further into his and felt the resounding groan in his throat as his arousal pressed against her.

His hands slipped between them to touch her breasts through her bra, savoring the ordinary cotton like it was the world’s finest silk. She shifted closer, kissing him harder, and then her bra was unclasped and he moved away to slide the straps from her  
shoulder. Her nipples hardened under the chill of the night breeze. His eyes were dark as he appraised them, and darker still as he cupped her breasts in his hands, rubbing slowly across her nipples. She felt the heat of a flush fill her face and her pulse thudded in her chest. She reached for him, struggling to undo the buttons of his shirt while he cupped her breasts and kissed and laved his way down her neck.

“Off,” She managed to gasp, tugging at his half-unbuttoned shirt just before he closed his mouth on the tip of her aching breast. Her eyes closed, and she could feel wetness between her legs. She pressed her legs together, desperate for any friction, and then his fingers were there, touching her through her knickers, sliding up and down and providing that which she so craved.

She needed him so badly.

She wanted him throbbing between her legs, she wanted to feel his body work to fulfill them both, she wanted the release and the pleasure she knew it would bring.  
But mostly she just needed him. 

She slipped her hand between them, to forcefully rub his erection, and he stopped in his torture on her body to undo the rest of his shirt buttons and pull it off, baring his pale skin. She undid the button on his pants, and forcefully pulled the zipper down, impatient. He stepped out of his shoes hastily, followed by his pants. She reached out to tug at the waistband of his briefs, inserting her hand inside to grab his erection in her hand, loving the way it throbbed beneath her palm. She slowly slid her hand down the length of him and used her other hand to tug lightly at his balls, lifting them away from his body. He groaned harshly, muttering a swearword as he pushed her hands from him.

He shoved his boxers off his body, and his dark eyes met hers in a look of pure unadulterated lust.

She grabbed fistfuls of his hair, yanking his mouth down to hers. Their tongues began a quick, primal dance and she hardly noticed as he took off her skirt and knickers. He grabbed her hips, lifting her, and she wrapped her legs around him in a tight vise grip. The engorged head of his erection brushed once against her core before he thrust roughly inside her with a groan. He paused, adjusting his angle, and then pulled out of her only to slam back inside.

Their bodies rubbed and rocked against each other quickly, seeking a fast release. She whimpered against his mouth, once, and he slammed into her harder than before, grunting with effort. She was close. She arched her back, whimpering as he brought her to the brink. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, eliciting another deep, growling groan, and she could feel him pulsate powerfully inside of her. His hips were moving erratically now, as his control ebbed, and she bit into his shoulder, feeling the response inside of her.

He grunted as his hips thrust once, twice more, and his back arched as he came. His hand slipped between them, pressed roughly against her clit, and then she was shuddering and losing herself in him as the remnants of his orgasm died.  
Her body sang. Her heart galloped in her chest. Sweat gleamed across her body. They both trembled as his legs felt the strain of maintaining their position. Her eyes met his, and they both panted.

She wanted to cry. She was alive, she was living.

She was a traitor.

She dropped her gaze, letting her legs release him. He understood the message, and stepped away from her, letting the cold air slam her back to reality, freezing her damp skin. As he gathered his clothes, tears filled her eyes and slid down her face, falling to the carpet beneath her unsteady legs. He pulled on his pants wordlessly, not giving her another look. She could only stare at his back as he walked away from her, leaving her behind like her entire future had.

“Stay,” Hermione begged suddenly.

He froze; that had been entirely unexpected.

“Please,” she added brokenly, in nothing more than a whisper, as she wiped the tears from her cheek. He still hadn’t moved, or looked back. She sank down the wall, into a crouched position on the floor. Finally, she confessed, “I need you.” She needed to feel alive.

Without a word, he crossed the room back over to her, and knelt to lift her from the floor. Somewhat awkwardly, he half-carried, half-pulled her across the common room and up the stairs leading to her solitary dorm. Once inside, he set her down on the bed, and stood looking at her, not touching her. She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were in the darkness of the room.

“Draco.” She reached for him, felt his calloused hand grab hers. He let her pull him down on the bed; let her curl up into his side. His hand found some of her hair, and began to smooth it away from her face.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

“Granger,” he finally said with a hoarse voice. “I’m sorry.”

She shifted against him, trying to hide her face. She knew what he was sorry for, even though they had never discussed it, and she didn’t want to face the truth, didn’t want to face the fact that he had been the one to hand Harry Potter to Voldemort, leading to his death at the hands of vengeful Death Eaters just hours after he had defeated the Dark Lord.

“I was scared, Granger. I hoped he would defeat the Dark Lord and free me. I swear I didn’t know that they wouldn’t give up after the Dark Lord was killed; I didn’t know they would kill Potter.” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t know that Potter…”

She was crying again.

“Shit, Granger, stop crying. Hermione, don’t cry.”

He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her cheeks where the tears were rolling.  
What Draco had done was not so different that what they all had been doing to Harry: putting their faith in him and risking his life to save theirs. That is what she told herself every time she saw Draco’s face. But five months hadn’t been enough to erase the blame that lingered from when she had realized that Draco’s decision had cost her best friend his life. Five months hadn’t been enough to erase the feeling of being disloyal to Harry, by sleeping with the cause of his death.

“I don’t know…” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she said honestly, brutally, wretchedly.

He sucked in a sharp breath and turned his face away from her.

Yet she still needed him. She had fallen into his mercy during the final battle, and had come to rely on him after Harry’s funeral. Somewhere along the line, she had even developed some feelings for him, but how could she do such a thing to Harry? How could she do such a thing to herself?

Was feeling alive enough justification for this?

“Draco?”

He didn’t turn to face her again. She leaned over him, finding his mouth with hers. He halfheartedly kissed her back, so she bit and then sucked on his lower lip. Against his wishes, a moan escaped from his throat.

And then, selfishly, she needed him more than she ever had.

She kissed him with wild abandon, and felt him respond like he always did. The barrier of his pants was suddenly too much, and she doesn’t know who slipped them off first. His hands stroked her stomach, her hips, reverent. His eyes met hers as she straddled him, teasing him by rolling her hips across his, too far away to allow his newly-hard member to enter her.

His hands gripped her hips, forcing her to slide down upon his erection. She took him in slowly, moaning quietly. Her eyes closed instinctively as she felt him fill her completely.  
“Open your eyes,” he commanded in a whisper.

Her heavy eyelids fluttered open to meet his, and he rocked his hips slowly, encouraging her to ride him. She slowly rose up, tightening herself around him, before allowing herself to slide back down, throwing them both into passion. His eyes devoured her as she rocked her hips against him. He thrust upwards in time with her movement, and reached a hand up to caress her breasts, cover her nipples, ease the ache. She looked at him, memorizing the darkness of his eyes, the looseness of his mouth as he breathed, the feeling of having him buried inside of her. She braced her hands on either side of his head, and leaned forward to let her breasts rub against his chest as they moved together.

For once, he didn’t take over, and she didn’t rush into release. They found it leisurely and almost carelessly—but they found it together, never losing eye contact.

“I love you,” he murmured afterwards to her, pressing a gentle kiss to the hollow of her throat.

Her breath caught in her throat; she couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t right, what was she doing? What kind of person did this make her? What would Harry say? What would Ron, poor grieving Ron, say if he knew where she was? How could she do this? She was a traitor, nothing more than scum like Pettigrew, traitor…

“I’m not asking you to love me,” he told her sharply, noting her panic. The unspoken ‘yet’ hung in the air, and she couldn’t breathe. “And I don’t expect you too. But I do love you, and I want you to know that.” And, not expecting a reply, he tucked her into his arms, kissed her hair, and closed his eyes, prepared to sleep.

She wondered how long he had loved her. She wondered if he had saved her life in the final battle out of hidden love. She wondered if he had known what surrendering Harry would do to the woman he loved.

She wondered if it was possible for her to forgive him for what he did, and even forgive herself for not being there for Harry in his hour of need.

But mostly she wondered if she could ever love him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. :)


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